


Tipping the Scales

by clutzycricket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Joffrey is his own warning, King's Landing, Prompt Fic, Well more fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: Margaery Tyrell is not sure she would like to be a queen again.(Her brothers would like to argue that she rules their lives, at least, how can a kingdom be harder?)But there is something alarming, in the way they speak of Sansa Stark, the King's former betrothed.(Why do they comment on how quickly she heals?)





	

1.)

The Stark girl is a witch, they say. She has strange powers, and creatures bend to her will, and she heals from wounds with peculiar quickness.

“Should I point out…” Garlan starts, furrowing his eyebrows and trying not to laugh.

“I shouldn’t bother,” Margaery said, golden eyes alight with mischief. Then she pauses, biting her lip. It was a habit Garlan thought their grandmother had trained out of her when he was little, and a sign of weakness in a widowed pretender queen, draped in black. “But why do they speak of how _quickly_ she heals?”

2.)

She is a fragile, hollow-eyed thing, this would-have-been queen.

Margaery sees her fight down her fears, realizes why the people accompanying Lord Baelish commented on how quickly she healed. She warns Margaery of what he has done, of the unbalanced state of Joffrey’s mind.

Loras will not stay silent if- when, it is almost certainly when- Joffrey turns on Margaery. Garlan will not stay silent when Joffrey can no longer hold back from harming Sansa, much less Margaery. She needs to fix this, to keep her brother’s best qualities from making them end as Brandon Stark did.

Well, she fancies, she doesn’t really want to be Queen. Being loved is one thing- she adores it, every part of her Tyrell gifts responding as much to love as fear. But playing Queen to Renly was one thing- Loras trusted Renly, in a bone-deep way Margaery suspects she will never be able to do. Renly was ambitious, and sharp, in ways most didn’t see, and chasing frivolities to remind himself that the monsters would never come back after Storm's End and the terrible siege.

(In her darkest moments, she wonders if Renly seduced Loras as a way of taming the monsters.)

She merely needs to plan.

3.)

It is when she takes Sansa hawking with her cousins that Margaery is certain of her plans. Sansa is perfect with her mount, if slightly stiff in the saddle. But the mare adores the girl, adjusting her gait to help her catch on. And Jocelyn…

The falcon was possibly a nasty prank from Merry, who is the sister of the Master of Arms at Highgarden, and who sometimes considers herself Margaery’s guard. Jocelyn was a gift from the Tarlys- Willas had visited, and charmed his hosts into allowing the bitter and spiteful bird with them. She is not entirely sure _why_ Jocelyn is with them- Willas is the only person who can handle her, most days. Perhaps Leonette, who adores the birds almost as much as Willas.

But Jocelyn does not make an attempt to savage Sansa, not after Sansa raises her eyebrows and holds out a gloved hand.

Not that the bird is docile- but the temper is focused on dives and so on.

Margaery writes to Willas that night, sending her message through Garlan.

 

4.)  
Margaery is almost convinced that her plan is ruined when Oberyn Martell comes to King’s Landing.

She has dealt with so much to get to this point, not the least of which was Tywin Lannister. But little Alysanne finds giving little nudges to people fun, and no one suspects tiny, giggling, simpering Alysanne, more interested in games of Come-Into-My-Castle than great debates, to act as a spy. Especially when Alyce Graceford, who was born to House Footly, is there, showing the curve of her belly and openly tired.

House Footly is small and oft overlooked, but can cause sharp, stabbing pains with their wills. When Tywin Lannister breaks his leg walking down the stairs, Margaery wonders if it is worth the risk to also to harm to the High Septon.

Then Lord Tyrion falls ill from bad wine, and Margaery Tyrell looks at her brothers with her best version of Mother’s glare.

“Leo Costayne,” Loras whispers. He is not much for subtle, most days, but he has a good heart and no love for the Lannisters.

Oberyn Martell is skilled at poisons, loathes the Lannisters, and Grandmother hates him for Willas’ accident. (Margaery does not like him, either, but Willas gets irritable and points out that there were multiple factors in his accident. Oberyn Martell controlled none of them, and they should all remember this.)

He could ruin all of her plans- in a fit of whimsy, to strike at Grandmother for her insults, because the stories are true and it was not the children of Rhaegar Targaryen who died, just aspects of shadow, blood, and illusion crafted by Elia Martell.

But he does not- he speaks with Sansa, true, dark eyes intent on something, insults the Lannisters terribly, and generally makes Margaery nervous.

Lady Jynessa Blackmont makes friends with Sansa, as well as Deria Sand, the bastard daughter of Lewyn Martell who is a little older than Margaery herself. The two ladies are as thick as thieves, all dark eyes and laughing voices, Sansa’s bright red hair standing out from between them like a flame.

Of course, then, there is a message sent by the Prince, in the early hours of the morning, saying that he needs to speak with the future Queen on a matter of deep importance. He recognizes that it is the day before her wedding, but, well, some things could not wait.

Willas is there, entirely Hightower-seeming except for the honey-wild eyes, leaning on his cane and trying not to smile.

“Sweet sister,” he says, “I heard you were planning my wedding, and thought I might like to know a bit more about it.”

Sansa looks entirely smitten, a dusty book on her lap, a battered old black tom at her feet, and her eyes focused entirely on Willas.

Margaery feels vaguely smug, for all that her brother attempted to outwit her. She had to admit, trying to manage the “kill Joffrey as soon as possible after they say their vows” and “get the sister of a traitor and convenient scapegoat to Highgarden” was tricky. Garlan had pointed out that Queen Cersei was angry and prone to lashing out, and killing her beloved only son would make her as volatile as wildfire.

(It was much easier to plot when everyone behaved as rational human beings.)

5.)

Willas smiles and shrugs and plays his part to perfection, ignoring Garlan and Oberyn’s amused looks.

When questioned, he admitted to using the Hightower transportation gift to check on his sister, who is “young and sweet and prone to sentiment”. He says that he was enchanted with Lady Sansa from the beginning, crafting his words to match what that vile little shit on the Iron Throne would want to hear.

(He does not blame Margaery for wanting to kill Joffery before enduring her wedding night. Though he hopes she realizes the rumors she will bring on herself, two husbands violently dead in such close succession.)

Ellaria and Deria will set Sansa straight if he cannot, he tells himself, trying not to look at her.

Joffery is more than happy to think that everyone is secretly as vile as him, sees a crippled lordling with one younger brother married and a younger-still sister nearly wed. Loras has taken the white, but rumors of Willas' supposed impotency have spilled as far as King’s Landing, he notes.

(Oberyn laughs at that, when he complains later, and Ellaria laughs as well when his face turns bright red.)

Joffery taunts them both, but seems to think that this is an appropriate form of “punishment” for Lady Sansa. He does not notice the hard looks on most of the Reacher lords’ faces at his sharper jibes, the insult he is dealing them.

He banishes them from King’s Landing before anyone else can speak, telling Willas that he is to use his Way and return promptly to Highgarden with his wife, never to return.

Margaery will smooth things over, Willas knows, and that is what he tells the furious, wild part of his nature inherited from the Gardener kings, the well-hidden legacy of Garth the Green.

The next morning, while Sansa nervously sews, he cannot help but pace, nightshade and Jennylace and hellebore nipping at his heels.

“May we go to river, ser?” his little wife asks.

He blinks. “What?”

“The river,” she said, blue eyes too wide and voice a trifle to high. He’s frightened her, and he feels guilty. “It is a habit I learned from my mother.”

They slowly make their way to the river, Jocelyn flying above somehow and one of his hounds following. There is pumpkin vines and snow peas growing behind him, because he is not in a rage, now, but he still is alarmed. Willas had a talent for going terribly practical when things grew tense, as Margaery teased him.

They come to the Mander, and Sansa removes her boots and stockings, tucking up her skirts and revealing rather a lot of leg as she sat on a stone and ducked her feet in the river.

“It is soothing,” she said, eyes closed. “Mother says the Tullys take their strength from the river, you see. Any water, really. She loved Winterfell so because of the hot springs, and the water piped through the walls. It was like being constantly surrounded by water. Robb and I were never ill, because we inherited her gifts, and we assumed Rickon…” She turns white as a corpse, pulling her shawl closer and covering her neck. “They say that after they slit my mother’s throat they gave her to the river.”

Willas maneuvers to balance on the stone, not bothering to remove his shoes. It was too much work, and he did not want to ask Sansa to help him just yet, not when she is so fragile.

Instead he tells her the stories of Garth the Green that not even the Maesters know, of the Dead Hunt and the rage passed to the Gardener Kings and their Tyrell successors, of the rides that still echoed through the Reach to this day. Why every Tyrell was buried with roses and a knife.

She does not flinch, the young lady who hid behind her courtesies and tried to make clever, practical uses for her talents in the nightmare she found herself facing.

“Is the Hunt bound to the Reach?” she asks, instead, something sharp in her pretty blue eyes.

He grins, wicked and grateful he did not need to hide everything he was with this woman. His father’s genuine bluster and bluntness hid the Tyrell gifts, as Garlan’s honor did, as Loras honed it as sharp and well-controlled as any sword. Willas showed his piety, focused on his hawks and hounds and horses, and let himself be thought of as a dull, forgettable man, if he crossed people’s minds at all.

Sansa understood that, and he was unutterably grateful.

When the raven arrived, stating the lamentable death of the King, he held his wife, and wondered how things would go from there.

After all, he so rarely knew of a chance to use the Dead Hunt for good.


End file.
